Page 55 of River & Crown
I scrolled, looking for River's name, when it dawned on me that I didn't know her fucking last name. Honestly, up until this moment, I never cared to learn it because it didn't matter to me. She was Mrs. Gravehart, as far as I was concerned. Tossing the tablet on the desk, I caught eyes with the nurse.
"My wife was brought in tonight. Car accident, first name River."
"I don't see a ring," her stupid ass had the nerve to say.
Humorlessly, I chuckled. "Do you think I give a fuck 'bout you not seeing a fuckin' ring on my finger? Behind River muthafuckin' Gravehart, I'm willing to crash out, and I promise you don't wanna see how destructive a nigga can get."
"Uh... okay... okay." Nervously, her finger got to tap dancing all over that fucking tablet. "I... I don't see a River Gravehart."
"'Cause that's not her name, stupid ass," I gritted.
"I'm sorry, but that's what you... you called her."
"I know what the fuck I said."
Shaking my head at the nurse, I let out a heavy breath to calm myself. "Ight, listen, we obviously got off on the wrong foot. I blame the cracked pavement you call lips, but that's neither here nor there. I'm looking for my wife, River. That name ain't fucking common. Whatever River you have here, I'm sure it's my River. Tell me where she's at, please."
"Okay." She glanced back at the tablet.
"Uh, we have a River Ashland on the—" Her focus drifted past me, pissing me off because nothing was more important than what the fuck I asked her for.
"Aye, didn't I ask you to find my fucking wife? You got five seconds to tell me where she's at, or I'm drag your sack-of-quarters-shaped ass into every room and killing each patient that's not my wife."
"Sir, you wouldn't!"
"Bitch, I'ma smile like a proud husband in my mugshot."
Nodding slowly, she glanced down at the tablet. "Uh yeah, she's—" the nurse was flustered and her gaze shot past me once again, this time with a hint of lust.
I laughed once more because God was really handing me the toughest battle on a fucking platter. It was cool 'cause if I had to show everyone in this bitch that I was God's strongest soldier, then so be it. My gun went from my waist to being aimed between her beady ass eyes.
"You-you-can-can't have that in here or them." Her gaze drifted from me to whoever was standing to my right, but slightly behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know the reason her skull matter was gon' be the new decor.
"What we aren't supposed to bring in should truly be the least of your worries." Killian walked closer, pushing my shoulder forward so my gun was now pressed against her scaly skin. "Nurse... ummm, ah, there it is, Nurse Ashley. We don't shoot to miss. If this gentleman squeezes the trigger, a bullet will be released, and you will die. Now I need two favors from you. Remove your hand from the silent alarm and give this nice gentleman the information he asked for."
"River Ashland. Car accident, yes, she is on the fourth floor in recov?—"
"Recovery." My fucking knees buckled without warning. I reached for the desk in time to keep from hitting the floor.
"One minute," I heard Killian say, but my muthafuckin' head was spinning.
"Straighten the fuck up. This moment isn't about you or the way you fucking feel," Killian gritted low enough for only me to hear.
I nodded, stood up straight, tucked my gun in the waist of my jeans, and then thanked the nurse. Her smile was weary and forced. I didn't blame her. Killian and I made it over to the elevators. I pressed the button anxiously, counting along as the elevator dropped in floors.
"Nigga, you can't bring them in the room," I said to Killian about Grim and Ghost.
"I don't plan on going into the room. I'm just making sure you make it up there with no issues."
"Why would I have problems?"
Killian scoffed as the elevator doors opened. Five cops stepped off, all with their hands glued to their holsters.
"Good evening, officers," Killian greeted.
"We were informed of an issue between a nurse and two gentlemen. One had a gun, and the other had two dogs."
Both Grim and Ghost lowered their heads, their snarls deepening into guttural warnings, silently promising violence if their owner gave the command.
